Her Forbidden Hero (19 page)

Marco’s chest went tight. He knew how goddamned much she
could
take—he’d seen that firsthand when they were kids. “Alyssa, don’t do that—”

“Just my wrists and neck,” she whispered.

Pete leaned in over Marco’s shoulder. “Hey, kid. How you doing?”

“I’m okay.”

“Cops and ambulance are on their way, okay? Sit tight. We’ll get this taken care of.” Pete released a long breath. “I’m sorry, Alyssa.”

Her eyes went wide. “I don’t need an ambulance.” She turned to Marco. “I…I can’t…”

He grasped her hand. “We’ll work it all out. Just let them look you over, okay? Just start there.”

She glanced between them. “I don’t want to cause trouble for you, Pete.”

“Now, stop right there, young lady. This place is like my home. And you guys are all my kids—no matter how old you are. No one comes into my house and hurts my family. I don’t care who they are. You understand?”

Alyssa’s breath shuddered and she nodded, her whole body trembling under Marco’s touch. His own adrenaline letdown wasn’t as marked, but it was still there. Jesus. He just wanted to wrap her in his arms and never let go.

Pete patted Marco on his shoulder and leaned down to his ear. “You did good, son. Thank you for getting here in time.”

Marco’s throat went tight. He gave a single nod but kept his eyes on Alyssa.

When Pete walked away, Marco pushed up onto his knees, bringing his gaze level with hers. He slid his hands behind her neck and massaged.

She winced and groaned.

“Dammit, sorry.” He jerked away, rage boiling the blood in his veins.

She caught him by the wrists. “It’s okay.” Her eyes went glassy again. “I…I need you.”

The words wrapped around Marco’s heart and made it expand inside his chest. He knew what it cost her to say that, especially after what
he
’d said last week. And he didn’t think his self-loathing could get any worse. Marco leaned his forehead against hers and stroked her hair. “You have me. God, Alyssa. I thought…” He swallowed hard, unable to give voice to the scenarios creating the stuff of new nightmares in his mind.

Her hands fisted in his shirt, dragging him closer. She didn’t cry; she simply leaned into him,
on
him, and it felt so goddamn right. Somehow, all the things that had seemed so complicated between them faded away in the shadow of the night’s events.

Red lights flashed against the trees. A single warning siren sounded as the ambulance came down the side driveway to the back lot. Blue lights followed. The emergency vehicles stopped close to where roughly fifteen people stood in clusters around Alyssa’s car.

Marco glanced over his shoulder to see Pete approach the first responders. Several car lengths away, the band manager paced and talked furiously on his phone, every once in a while barking something at the piece of shit who had assaulted Alyssa. The rest of the band huddled nearby.

Alyssa released a deep breath, reclaiming Marco’s attention. He leaned in. “You did nothing wrong here. Okay? The cops are going to want you to tell them what happened. Just be straightforward. And the EMTs just want to make sure you’re all right.”

“Okay,” she whispered.

Marco stood and held out a hand to her. “You good to stand up?”

She grasped his hand and rose.

Marco pulled her into his arms and closed his eyes when she melted into him.

“Sir? Ma’am?”

Marco hated to let go of her for even an instant, but he stepped back and made room for the EMTs. “I’ll be right here.”

She followed the medics to the back of their rig.

Someone stepped up beside him. “Sir, I need to ask you a few questions.”

Marco forced his gaze to the officer standing at his side. “Of course.”

Every one of the thirty minutes he was separated from Alyssa made Marco’s heart hurt and his gut squeeze. His arms ached for the feel of her. What if he’d been too late?

He forced the question from his mind and stood watch from a distance as two cops questioned Alyssa, who was sitting on the back of the open ambulance with a blanket around her shoulders. From there, she appeared calm and confident as she answered the officers’ questions, but he knew her well enough to read the set of her shoulders and the dull cast of her eyes.

Van stepped up beside him. “You okay?”

Marco met the guy’s serious gaze. “Shit, I don’t know.”

The other man looked at him for a long moment. “You realize how deep she’s into you, right?”

A thousand answers, some flippant, some indignant, flew through Marco’s mind. He settled on good old-fashioned honesty and gave a single nod.

Van’s eyes narrowed and his lips pressed into a line. Marco got the message, even though the other man never voiced it.
Be good to her. Do right by her. Don’t be the pissed-off, closed-down asshole you are to the rest of us—not with her
.

Marco turned back to find Alyssa pushing the blanket off her shoulders and rising.

He crossed the lot to her, unable to stay away for one more second.

…

Alyssa had never felt more lost and alone than she did standing there in the middle of that crowded parking lot.

She couldn’t stop shivering. Her body ached. Humiliation and a bone-deep exhaustion weighed her down. The smell of Trent’s aftershave and the phantom grip of his hands were all over her skin.

“Alyssa?”

She turned toward the voice and found Eric standing off to the side of the ambulance.

“Hey,” she said, not quite able to make eye contact.

“I grabbed these for you.” He held out her cell phone and car keys.

She hadn’t even realized she’d lost them. “Oh. Thank you.” She slipped the phone in her pocket and looped the key ring around her finger.

Eric shifted his feet and cleared his throat. “Um. Are you o—”

“Yeah.” She waved him off, not up to telling the truth or putting on a happy face.

An emotion she couldn’t identify burned in his eyes. “I could drive you home.”

“That’s okay. Thanks, though.” She forced what she hoped resembled a smile onto her lips.

A big hand settled against the small of her back. She knew who it was without looking, both needing Marco’s touch and hating that need. She was grateful beyond belief that he’d shown up when he did, but she didn’t want to play the damsel in distress to his white knight. No doubt all this night had done was reaffirm her helplessness to him.

“Everything go all right?” Marco asked, his breath brushing against her ear.

“Yeah. All done.”

“Let me know if I can do anything?” Eric asked.

“Yeah. Night.”

Marco pulled her into his arms and, though Alyssa knew she shouldn’t get used to his comfort or the reassurance of his strong body, she sank into him, as if he could carry the burden of this day for her.

He kissed her hair. “Come home with me.”

Numbness made it hard to analyze his words. She didn’t know whether to be pleased that he wanted her to come home with him or upset that it was because he thought she needed his help. “I shouldn’t,” she answered.

He pulled back but not away. “I want you to come home with me.”

She searched his face, still unable to read the emotion behind the words. “I’m okay.”

“I’m glad to hear it. But I’d still like to take care of you.” He released a shaky breath. “I
need
to take care of you. Not because you can’t do it, but because I need…Aly, I need to touch you and see you and prove to myself in a thousand other ways that you’re okay, that you’re still here with me. That I didn’t lose you tonight.”

Alyssa’s heart skipped at the desperation in Marco’s voice. It was the only thing that convinced her his desire didn’t stem from obligation. She searched his eyes, seeing the pleading there, too. “Okay.”

He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and walked her to lock up her car.

“Oh, I don’t have my purse.”

Marco squeezed her hand. “You don’t need it for anything tonight. I’ll get it for you tomorrow.”

Despite her exhaustion, her eyelids remained wide open during the ride to his house. She followed him inside, refusing to let her brain remember what had happened her last morning there.

“Want something to drink?” he asked, guiding her into the kitchen.

“Just some water.” He poured her a glass and handed it to her. She took a long sip, but it wasn’t enough to remove Trent’s taste from her mouth. The clock on the microwave revealed it was nearly three a.m., but a sudden urge rocked through her. “I want to take a shower.”

He frowned, watching her. “Of course. You know where everything is?”

“Yeah.”

“My house is yours, Alyssa. Make yourself at home.”

She turned and fled from the room and the words she knew she was reading too much into. She was too emotional, too tired, too needy to trust her judgment where Marco was concerned.

She fell back against the closed bathroom door and released a long breath. The night’s slimy fingers crawled over her skin. Alyssa marched to the shower and wrenched the knob to hot. She couldn’t get her clothes off fast enough. The shirt went into the garbage. The bra hit the floor. She tugged at the zipper to her jeans, a cry breaking free when it stuck. She yanked them down over her hips, the rough denim scraping her skin, and kicked them away. She tore her panties off last.

By the time she stepped into the shower, the water had warmed and her tears flowed. She grabbed the bar of soap and scrubbed it over every inch of her skin until she felt raw. As she worked to clean the hurt and fear and panic away, small whimpers and cries burst free until she couldn’t hold them back any longer.

Sobs ripped out of her throat, the release of the suffocating pressure taking her to her knees on the shower floor. She mustered just enough energy to shift positions, pulling her legs out from under her and curling around her knees. The shower rained down on her. She cried for what might have happened. She cried for all she wanted with Marco but would never have. She cried for the little girl inside who hadn’t been able to fight back the way the woman did tonight.

A constant knocking broke through her grief. Alyssa lifted her head.

“Alyssa? Please answer me. Are you okay?” More knocking.

She opened her mouth, but her throat was so tight around the tears.

“Damn it, Aly. I’m coming in.”

She hated for him to see her cry. She’d done it enough in front of him lately. Her forehead dropped back to her knees. A movement of cooler air told her the shower curtain had parted.

“Oh, sweetheart.” The warmth of his body surrounded her and blocked the water from stinging her skin. “I know. I’ve got you.” He reached back and turned off the nozzle, then stripped off his drenched shirt, dropping it to the shower floor with a wet
slap
.

Taking a deep breath, Alyssa propped her chin on her knees and looked at him.

The lean muscles all along his side popped as he reached to the bar and retrieved a thick towel. He wrapped it around her shoulders and used the end to gently dry her face. The whole time, he watched her with an expression full of compassion and tenderness. God, he was so beautiful.

“Come on,” he whispered. He picked her up, one arm under her knees and the other behind her back. Oh, his warmth and his strength seeped into her, setting off a craving for more. More of his touch, more of his skin, more of
him
. Ignoring that both of them were dripping wet, Marco carried her into his bedroom and set her on the edge of the bed. He reached away long enough to click on the bedside lamp, then returned to her, holding and stroking her, making her incredibly aware of her nudity under the towel.

She looked up at him, her heart swelling with every heightened emotion she felt—and most of all for him. His eyes blazed and his lips parted.

Alyssa’s emotions lurched in a new direction, one full of heat and need and desire. She slid off the bed to stand, forcing him back a half step. The towel dropped to the bed behind her.

She settled her palms on his chest and he sucked in a breath, his muscles going rigid beneath her touch. His reaction fueled her to take another step. Leaning forward, she pressed a long openmouthed kiss over his heart. He didn’t push her away. He didn’t tell her no. She kissed him again and again. Until her lips came down soft and wet around his nipple.

“Damn,” he rasped, gripping her back and stroking her hair.

Her hands explored his ribs, the hard planes of his abdomen, and found the line of black curls that ran downward. Alyssa’s heart lodged in her throat. She tilted her head back to tell him what she wanted—no,
needed
—but she never got the chance.

Marco buried his hands in her wet hair and claimed her lips. For a few long seconds, the kiss tasted of compassion, tenderness, and forgiveness. And then something snapped in both of them, as if they were of one mind, and the kisses, the touches, the sounds they made became more needful, more demanding, more urgent.

Marco crushed his arms around her, drawing her up close so that their bodies touched from thighs to chests. His kisses traveled in a worshipful, purposeful line from her lips to her jaw to her ear. “So much to say,” he breathed.

“I know,” she said in a low voice as she tilted her neck to allow his exploration. “We will. Just not right now.”

He pulled back to look in her eyes. “But I want you to know—”

She pressed her fingers to his lips, needing to revel in his touch. All the reasons this wouldn’t work could wait until morning. “Words later. I just want to feel you. On me, in me. Please, Marco? I need you so much.”